Before It's Too Late
by Josu
Summary: Sam has a lot of thinking to do on Christmas Eve and a need to take out his frustrations on someone or something.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

This may be slightly AU; I just felt that Sam needed a moment to flip out.

December 24th Sam walked out of the motel room he was sharing with his brother.

He walked down the snow covered street towards the small store on the corner, the tiny bell above the door jingled as he walked in.

"Evening, anything I can help you with?"

There was a small cough as Sam walked right by the older man behind the counter,

"We're getting ready to close soon."

"I'll only be a minute", Sam mumbled, of course everyone would be closing early on Christmas Eve, going home to their loved ones and all their fake happiness. He grabbed what he was looking for off the shelf and took it back to the counter where he laid it down with a loud thud.

Sam watched as the man behind the counter gave him an odd look, "That's all you want?"

"That's it", he grumbled reaching into his pocket and throwing some bills onto the counter.

The older man followed him towards the door, locking it after he had stepped outside. Later he would recall the man's mumbled words of, "Merry Christmas", but right now he didn't care, because right now there was nothing _merry _about it.

He trudged back towards the motel, his shoes making slapping noises against the wet pavement. He stopped next to the Impala, laying the object from the hardware store down and then pulling open the backdoor. He retrieved the plastic bag that he had purchased earlier that day from the back seat and made his way towards the front of the car, he muffled a curse a moment later when he tripped over his own feet and nearly dumped the contents of the bag onto the ground.

He froze waiting to see if the door to the motel room would open, but after a few quiet seconds he continued on his way and took a seat on the sidewalk just in front of the Impala. He glanced towards the doorway one more time before reaching into his bag; he didn't want Dean to hear him, not yet.

There was a rustling noise as he pulled the bottle out of the bag and then carefully popped the top off; tilting his head backwards he took a long drink of the bitter liquid. He placed the bottle onto the ground next to him and lowered his head onto his knees and replayed the earlier conversation through his mind.

"_You're not going to die, Dean. I'll find a way to get you out of the deal."_

"_I don't want to talk about it, Sam. What's done is done, this is my last Christmas, let's at least try and enjoy it."_

Sam's head shot up sharply as a semi flew past the motel vibrating the ground he was sitting on. He shook his head slightly and took another drink, _'If Dean would only listen to him, try and understand he just couldn't let him go.'_

Dean had been asking him for days to celebrate Christmas the way they used to when they were children, like he some how expected Sam to pull a happy memory from those days. So he did the best he could tonight, he made a Christmas tree and bought Dean a present from the gas station down the road, and just for a little while they called a truce to the bickering.

But it didn't last long. He closed his eyes and then put the bottle to his lips trying to numb the pain.

"_So it's ok for you to give your life for me? I'm just supposed to except that?"_

"_Sam you're going to be fine without me."_

"_FINE? I'm going to be fine just because you say so? Is that It?_

"_Well I'm sorry Dean it just doesn't work like that."_

He remembered grabbing his jacket off the chair in the room and Dean calling after him.

"_Sam, where are you going?"_

"_For a walk", _was all he said, but if Dean would only listen he would have said so much more.

He took one last drink from the bottle and tossed it aside, not even caring when it shattered on the ground. He stood up wobbled a little and then started walking, he bent over slightly and grabbed his earlier purchase off the ground and turned to face his brothers car.

He had no family left besides Dean, why couldn't his brother understand that? He was scared to death and no one would listen.

Well, there was one family member left that he could take his anger out on and then maybe Dean would finally listen.

He brought the baseball bat over his head and swung down as hard as he could, leaving a sizeable dent in the Impala's trunk.

"_You'll be fine when I'm gone, Sam. Don't make such a big deal out of it." _He remembered those words from a conversation two weeks earlier with his brother as he slammed the bat down again, this time connecting with the roof.

"_You'll be fine."_

"_You'll be fine"_

That's what it always came down to, Dean couldn't make it without Sam, but Sam was supposed to?

Yeah right.

This time the back window shattered with Sam's anger and then a solid force slammed into his side sending him flying to the ground.

"What are you doing?"

Sam cracked an eye open and took note of the reassuring pressure at his back and the arm securely around the front of his chest. "Are you nuts?" the arm around him shook slightly, "That's my freakin car, Sam. "

"It's not fair", Sam whispered.

"What's not fair? You beating the shit out of my poor defenseless car?" Dean's voice grew louder but he didn't move out from behind Sam.

"I gave you what you wanted for Christmas, but what about what I want?"

"You gave me a can of oil, which isn't going to come close to fixing my car now."

There was a moment of silence, Dean was suddenly very glad the parking lot was practically empty.

"What do you want Sam? You beat the hell out of my car, so you obviously wanted my attention, I'm listening little brother."

Sam closed his eyes willing the tears he had been holding in for months not to fall, he reached up and grabbed a hold of his brother's wrist.

His voice came out slightly nasally, " I just wanted you to listen to me, to what I had to say and not just brush it off."

Dean listened to his brother's words, he could feel the younger man start to tremble slightly and his grip tightened around him. "What Sam? What do you want me to hear?"

Dean knew he couldn't run from this any longer, he'd been running from it for months, hoping Sam would just let it go.

"I don't want you to die."

Dean took in the broken bottle on the ground, the bat that lay just a few feet away, and the car that sat in shambles in front of him. He couldn't promise Sam he wasn't going to die; it was a lie that he knew neither of them would believe.

But deep down in his heart he knew that's not what Sam wanted to hear from him, all these months Sam just wanted him to know how he was feeling.

He brought his other hand around and placed it on top of Sam's," I know Sam, I know." he muttered.

Because he did know, he'd been sitting on that side not long ago, except for then there was no one left to listen, it had been too late.


End file.
